


Before It's Too Late

by ejahdii



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Missing Scenes, but its ok, chapters: short and sweet, kallus feels bad about things, kallus is kinda an idiot but we love him, kalluzeb - Freeform, relatively slow burn, the end is pretty fluffy, zeb is fantastic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25590286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejahdii/pseuds/ejahdii
Summary: pretty much just: 5 times Kallus thought "Blast it!" +1 time he didn't
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 46
Kudos: 113





	1. On Bahryn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to the wonderful Star Wars universe. Also, some of the scenes are very similar to the show, except from my interpretation of Kallus' POV.

1:  
“Don’t tell me you're afraid of the dark.”

Kallus looked up at the lasat’s smirking face and scowled.

“It’s not just going to get dark,” he replied, “it’s going to get colder. Too cold for this to keep us warm.” He nodded at the heat lamp Orellios had just placed in between them.

“And here I thought Geonosis was a desert planet,” the lasat quipped. _Ugh_ , thought Kallus, whilst explaining how they were not, in fact, on Geonosis, _if he doesn’t kill me with that bo-rifle, being stuck in this kriffing hole with him will certainly do me in_.

“Oh, get a sens’a humor, agent,” the rebel grumbled, climbing back into the ruined escape pod. Kallus cursed his luck. Of all the kriffing moons to be stranded on, did it have to be this one? He’d been to the Empire’s base on the ice planet of Vandor once before, but he could have sworn he had never felt so cold in his life. Of course, his right leg being broken just made the situation worse. That, and the fact that the only other person around was a lasat who probably hated his guts.

Orrelios returned carrying a transponder. At first Kallus’ spirits lifted, but then he saw that it was broken, and his hopes vanished as quickly as they had arrived. He wondered if Orrelios could repair it, so the Empire could find them. The imperial voiced his thoughts, but even as he said it, he knew the signal would never make it past the ice above them anyway. _This could not get any worse_ , he thought, still scowling at Orrelios. As if on cue, a loud growl echoed from the depths of the cave behind him. The lasat held his bo-rifle in ready position, but he couldn’t see anything hiding in the shadows.

“I’ll take my chances with the cold, and whatever we’re sharing this hole with,” he said to Kallus. “I know what happens to a lasat in an imperial prison.”

Normally, Kallus would be completely unphased by what he said, but for some reason the words just rubbed him the wrong way. Must be the cold messing with his brain. He didn’t let the lasat see that he was slightly bothered, instead saying that if the other cooperated, he would get a fair trial when the Empire arrived. Orrelios just chuckled dryly.

After a while, the heat lamp buzzed out. Kallus thought that was the end, but Orrelios found some kind of glowing meteorite. Although it wasn’t much, it threw off enough heat to keep the two from freezing solid. Still, Kallus figured it could only last so long.

A couple failed attempts at climbing out later, the two were still nowhere close to escaping. By this time, they had realized they needed each other, quite alive, in order to survive. They had encountered the creature in the cave, the growler from earlier. It had been an extremely unpleasant experience, not just because Kallus had thought he was going to die, but because he had been given the opportunity to kill the lasat more than once, but every time, he had spared him. He told himself it was only because, logically, it made more sense for him to keep the rebel alive. He was sure that once they were out of the cave, he would have no problem killing the lasat.

After they managed to chase the creature away, Orrelios made the imperial officer a leg splint out of some fabric and Kallus’ bo-rifle.

“You shouldn’t have it. It’s not a trophy,” he said, while tying the bo-rifle to Kallus’ leg. Kallus considered his words. _Should I tell him?_ He wondered what the lasat would think if he told him how he had actually acquired the weapon. He studied Orrelios’s face, then said,

“I didn’t take it as a trophy.” He then told the story of how he had obtained the lasat weapon. When he was done, Orrelios’ eyes widened.

“The Boosahn Keeraw.”

“The what?”

“The lasat warrior way.” Orrelios explained what it meant that Kallus was given the weapon. He looked differently at the imperial, like he realized something he hadn’t considered before. Kallus was unsettled by it. Orrelios was too close; he couldn’t help noticing how vibrantly green the lasat’s eyes were. _They’re kind of ni_ \--then he shook his head hard to get that sentence out of his head, send it far, far away and never let it back in.

“What’d ya do that for?”

Kallus started at the rebel’s words. Orrelios was looking at him expectantly.

“Oh,” he faltered, “the cold’s getting to me, I can’t stop shivering.” As if he would ever let the lasat know what he had just--almost--thought. Nothing about that rebel was nice. _He wants to kill me, for crying out loud! He’s not being friendly for the sake of being friendly. He needs me to live so he can live. Nothing more._  
Still, he thought it might be good to explain himself; why he didn’t like lasats and how he was just following orders, in the end. Maybe he could get the great oaf to actually understand that not all imperials are rotten to the core, despite what he seems to think.  
He wondered if he’d gotten through to Orellios. Even weirder, he wondered if Orellios had gotten through to him. It seemed that maybe, just perhaps, Kallus was starting to hate the lasat a little less.

\---

They had escaped the cave with two of the giant growling creatures chasing them out, and yet again, Kallus had seen the chance to kill Orellios-- _Garazeb? That is his first name, I think...argh it doesn’t matter!_ \--and had not taken it. He knew that by any logic it made sense--Garazeb was his enemy, and he himself had the transponder, the heat source, and his weapon--but he just couldn’t do it.  
Once they were up, they found a place to rest and wait for help. Much to Kallus’ surprise, after sitting for a while, Garazeb said,

“By the way, it’s Zeb. My name, it’s Zeb.”

“Short for Garazeb. I know,” was the only reply he could come up with. Then he opened his mouth to say, _Mine is Alexandr,_ but changed his mind at the last second. _He doesn’t need to know. We are not friends._ He told himself fiercely. _We’ll be on opposite sides of a war soon enough._  
Still, the ISB agent couldn’t help feeling a little warmer after Ga--Zeb told him his nickname. He hated that he liked the feeling.  
Zeb got picked up by his friends in the morning. He looked back once, before he left, and that weird warm feeling returned. Kallus had no idea what was happening, but he was sure it was bad.

When he returned to his ship, he wasn’t entirely surprised that no one had missed him. It was still disappointing, though, especially when he thought about how the Ghost crew had welcomed back their lost member. As he entered his room, he realized he was still holding the meteorite Zeb had found, glowing bright as ever. _Won’t be needing this anymore_ , he thought as he opened the garbage chute in his room. His hand hovered over the opening, holding the warm yellow rock. He stayed still, for at least a minute, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He sighed, closed the chute, and put the meteorite next to his bed.

\---

Before they had started the climb up the pillars, Kallus had told Zeb how to climb out of the cave. Zeb had said,

“If you’re wrong, I’m feeding you to that creature.”

Something told Kallus that the lasat wouldn't do that. He would have believed it whole-heartedly before they got stranded together on that kriffing moon, but now...he had a hard time thinking it could happen. And, as much as it unnerved him, once they got out, he had the feeling that it would be impossible for him to kill one Zeb Orrelios.  
 _Blast it!_ he thought.


	2. A Helping Hand

2:

It had been a while since the ice moon--Bahryn, he’d researched it after. Even so, ISB agent 021 had a hard time thinking of anything but that.

The last time Kallus had seen any members of the Ghost crew was at Skystrike Academy. The mandalorian girl had been undercover, attempting to sneak three pilots out. Why, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had told them what floors were safe to escape from. The decision to help them had been a split-second one, and he still wasn’t sure he had made the right move. The problem was, as soon as he saw the mandalorian, he was reminded of Zeb. He knew the Spectres were a tight-knit family, and didn’t want to imagine Zeb’s face if the girl never returned to their ship; yet of course, that was the only image that he could see. He couldn’t stand it. 

In his heart he knew that was the main reason he’d helped the rebels on that day at the academy. Even so, he kept telling himself that he’d only done it so he would no longer feel indebted to the lasat. He knew that they had both helped each other on Bahryn, but for whatever reason, he still felt as though he needed to make up for something.

Even after he had admitted to himself that preventing Spectre-4’s sorrow could have contributed to his act of treason, a very small voice sometimes popped into his head, usually late at night. It whispered that maybe the reason wasn’t either of the things he had previously thought at all. Maybe it was the fact that Zeb’s advice still rang in his ears every day:  _ Ah, good questions. Chase the answers and maybe you’ll learn the truth. _ He had begun to follow it, or begun to attempt at least, but in every place he dug, he found all the answers he didn’t want to find--and sometimes simply none at all. He didn’t want to admit it, but day by day, his faith in the Empire was dwindling.

The incident at the academy was a few weeks ago. Now, he was back on Lothal. It seemed as though everywhere he went, he was reminded of the rebels--most noticeably, of Zeb. He didn’t have a whole lot of friends in the Empire, so there was no one to distract him. That purple face haunted his every waking moment, along with the memory of his treasonous actions. 

He was in the market. Grand Admiral Thrawn had sent him to find some jogan fruit--apparently he was interested in their significance in Lothal’s artistic history and wanted to try one himself. Agent Kallus thought it was a strange request but wasn’t about to question his superior. The rebels had been relatively quiet the past few days, and most of his coworkers were on low guard. Of course, simply because of that, he should have expected what came next.

A commotion broke out across the square. Loud bangs of vendors’ goods falling all over the place and stations crashing to the ground echoed around Kallus while he frantically looked for what was causing the problem. He saw the ears first, two of them, purple and poking out from behind a low wall. Then came the rest of Zeb, followed by that C1 droid, who was beeping furiously. The two rebels barreled through the market, followed by a unit of stormtroopers. When the blaster-fire started was when the civilians regained their sense and realized  _ Oh, it’s time to panic! _ As if that would help the situation. 

The agent had already been seen by a few of the troopers, and they were calling to him to join them.  _ Kriff!  _ he thought,  _ this is really not what I needed right now, Garazeb Orrelios! _ He growled in frustration, then joined the fray.

He wasn’t exactly sure where the rebels had run off to, so he slipped into the labyrinth of alleyways surrounding the square. There were still civilians running every which way, and more stormtroopers had arrived, as well as an AT-ST walker. Of course. At this point, he thought maybe the Empire should stop sending those things. It seemed like the more power sent to help defeat the rebels, the more easily the rebels escaped. It almost made him want to laugh. Suddenly a noise from behind him whipped him out of his thoughts. More precisely, a voice.

“Hey, Kallus.”

He turned, now face to face with Zeb, who was looking way too nonchalant, considering the situation. The warm feeling returned with a force so strong he almost gasped out loud. He had plenty of experience controlling his outward appearance, though, so he was able to hide whatever emotion he was feeling from the lasat.

“Garazeb.” He said, as coldly as he could muster. It didn’t come out nearly as uncaring as he had planned.  _ Kriff.  _ The lasat threw him a lopsided smile then, like he saw right through the imperial. The expression certainly didn’t do anything to make the feeling go away.

“How’s the leg?”

Kallus was a bit surprised that he remembered his broken limb at all, let alone that he seemed to genuinely care how it was. He ignored the question and fired back his own.

“Aren’t we supposed to be trying to kill each other?” A weird pang hit Kallus in the chest when the rebel looked disappointed. 

“We let each other go once, why don’t we do it again?” the lasat offered. When Kallus said nothing, the other continued in more of a joking tone: “C’mon, it’s easier anyway.” 

“That was...different. We couldn’t get out of that hole unless both of us lived.”

“You didn’t kill me when we got out.”

Kallus said nothing again. 

“And Sabine told me about the academy. I don’t think you owed me anything, ‘least not in terms of the ice moon. Looks like maybe you wanted to help us for a different reason.”

Kallus glared at the lasat. He had no business being able to make Kallus doubt himself and the Empire this easily. Avoiding the touchy subject, he backtracked:

“My leg is fine, Zeb.” he cursed himself for using the nickname. That was too...personal. “Now go, leave before I change my mind.”

Zeb grinned--Kallus wanted to stab himself for liking that smile--and said, 

“Glad my makeshift splint wasn’t completely useless.” Then he turned and climbed up and over the side of the alleyway. 

Kallus stood still. He used to know exactly who he was, exactly why he was an imperial, and a proud one at that. Now...well, he had never felt so unsure about anything in his life. 

\---

He returned to the main market only to find that more rebels had arrived. These ones he didn’t recognize. The alley’s exit had put him closer to them than to the imperials. The AT-ST was damaged, he could tell, but still operational. He was vaguely aware of a stormtrooper’s muffled voice yelling “Agent” in the same sentence as “aimed at” and “move!” but he couldn’t hear exactly what it was the soldier said. He wasn’t sure he would have had enough time to move even if he had heard the warning. At almost the exact moment the words registered in his brain, an explosion went off somewhere to his left, towards the rebels. He heard their screams, felt himself fly to his right and crash into something--maybe a vendor’s old stand--then everything went black.

\---

The sun had been swiftly setting when the commotion started; when he came to, it was clearly night. He couldn’t see a thing. His previously-broken knee--along with the entire right side of his body--hurt, but he could tell it wasn’t bad. He got up slowly, clutching his throbbing head. That was when he realized there was a bandage wrapped around it. He touched the medical fabric gingerly and winced. He drew his hand back, and though he couldn’t see much, he could tell there was a bit of dried blood on it.  _ Someone...patched up my wound?  _ he thought incredulously.  _ But who? _ His eyes were adjusting to the lack of light now. He could tell he wasn’t near where the explosion went off. In fact, he could have sworn he was at least 2 blocks away from where the fighting had been. He could tell, even in the dark, that there were no marks in the dirt around his feet.  _ So I wasn’t dragged...someone...carried me here and...tended to my wounds. _ He suddenly had a sneaking suspicion of who that person was. He wanted very badly for it to be true, yet at the same time, he hoped it was dead wrong. He wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger. He looked closer at the dirt around him. There they were--the distinct footprints of a lasat. 

_ Blast it!  _ he thought, again. But this time, even as he thought it, he couldn’t stop the warm feeling from returning, stronger than ever. 


	3. Fulcrum

3:

Imperial Agent ISB-021 had heard of the rebel spy known as “Fulcrum.” He’d been chasing what he’d thought was one person for years now. As it turned out, Fulcrum was not actually a single person, but a code name for an intelligence unit--a series of different rebel spies. And these were not just the typical “eyes and ears” of the rebellion. No, these were the spies that were able to provide top-secret, nearly-impossible-to-obtain information. These Fulcrum agents did not help the rebellion simply survive, but actually gain the upper hand. For as long as Kallus had known of “Fulcrum,” he had hated it. That was why he found it nearly impossible to stomach the fact that he might become one.

He’d been thinking about it since he found out what happened on Geonosis. Moff Tarkin had ordered the planet sterilized and the population destroyed. Apparently it was to keep the creation of some top secret project secret. Kallus did not know what this project was, but nothing he could imagine warranted the destruction of an entire species. First Lasan, now Geonosis. He was disgusted by the fact that he was working for something that destroyed entire populations for no good reason. Still, he tried to ignore the facts. Maybe there was a good reason. Maybe the “greater good” was worth it. But seeing Zeb on Lothal had cleared his mind of any doubt that he was on the wrong side. 

He had been raised an imperial--his parents had been strong supporters of the empire, and he had been shipped off to become an ISB agent at the age of 10. He couldn’t remember a time when he did not know what the Empire was; it had always been a part of his life. And for all that time, he had been taught that the Empire was good. It had been ingrained in him that the rebels were insane, war-mongering criminals who deserved everything coming to them--be it death or worse. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not think of Zeb as some bloodthirsty monster. Not anymore.

Alexandr Kallus had never had a friend before. He did not know what it felt like to be appreciated. Hell, he didn’t even know what it was like to be loved. He was sure his parents never spared a moment thinking about him, wondering if he was okay. But this alien, this lasat _,_ this _rebel_...he seemed like he cared. 

Kallus knew no imperial would ever have taken care of a rebel if they had found one unconscious. It would have been an immediate blast to the head or a trip to a prison cell, to be tortured for information. The fact used to make him feel safe, but now it made him nauseous. He imagined Zeb in his position, unconscious on Lothal. He honestly wasn’t sure what he would have done if their positions had been switched. Would he have brought Zeb in? He imagined them torturing and killing the last lasat. Then he cursed himself for imagining it. _No matter what side I’m on_ , he realized, _I don’t think I could bear it if he died_. It pained him to realize it, after so much of his life was spent helping the Empire, and especially due to his role in the Massacre of Lasan. But it was true. Zeb was his only friend, and as childish as it sounded, he didn’t want to go and kriff that up. Which is why he knew he had no choice but to try to help the rebellion. And what better way than to become a Fulcrum agent. 

_How_ to become one...now there was the problem. He had to admit, the rebels were good. He’d been looking for their spies for years, yet he had no clue where to begin. He did know, however, that Captain Syndulla of the Ghost was rather high-ranking within them. He figured she might be the easiest to contact, without suspicion, given that it was already his job to find her squad. If he could somehow talk to her, without her knowing his identity, he just might be able to convince her of his devotion to their cause and earn a spot as Fulcrum. 

It was nearly midnight and Kallus had been awake for the past 19 hours. After searching through old files and sending out two personal probe droids to look for signs of the Ghost crew on Lothal, he seemed to have found something. There was a tower outside city limits that the Empire had marked as abandoned. It didn’t seem to pose a threat, as there wasn’t much to it and it really did seem deserted. But Kallus had found pictures of the tower from two different days--one from a month ago and one from two days ago. They were nearly identical images, except there was something extra in the second--a loth cat. Not a living loth cat, but a painted one, right on the side of the tower. It was unmistakably the work of Sabine Wren. He was convinced the place was some kind of meeting area or communications tower. _If I’m going to find them, they will be there,_ he thought. _If not, my best bet is to leave a note._

He knew he couldn’t leave now without a good excuse. He triggered the alarm connected to one of his probes, the one near the tower. That way, his datapad wouldn’t stop buzzing until he went to retrieve it, but the probe itself made no noise. He wouldn’t alert anyone around the tower to his presence and he would have a valid excuse ready for questioning imperials--the buzzing woke him and it was annoying so he went to fetch the droid. 

He arrived at the tower. There hadn’t been much interference, just a couple of nosy stormtroopers who were quite easy to get rid of. He climbed up to the door, touched the button to open it and was relatively surprised when it wasn’t locked. That shock went away in a split second, because it was nothing compared to the next one. 

Bridger. He was there, in the tower. Kallus stopped breathing. Bridger hated him and wouldn’t give him a moment’s hesitation. Then he realized he was fine, because, miraculously, the kid was asleep. He was in a chair with his legs up on the table, but his eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and paced. Kallus let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, only to suck it back in when he turned his head.

On the opposite side of the room was none other than Garazeb Orrelios. Much to Kallus’ relief-- _or annoyance?_ \--he was also sound asleep. The agent found that he couldn’t pull his eyes off Spectre 4. He just looked so...peaceful. It was a strange look on the lasat, since almost every time Kallus saw him, he was either angry, on edge, or smirking. He decided he liked the peaceful look. He briefly wondered if he had looked similar while he was unconscious, or if, even in sleep, he couldn’t shake the imperial haughtiness and anger. He prayed it wasn’t the latter, then cursed himself for caring. 

Suddenly he remembered why he was there. He trod lightly so as not to wake the two rebels while he looked to see if any other members of their crew were there. He didn’t find anyone. _Should I leave a note?_ he wondered, torn. He considered waking Zeb for help, but then decided against it _._ Kallus didn’t know much about Fulcrum, but he knew enough about spies to know the other rebels shouldn’t know who the spy is. So although he was extremely tempted to wake the lasat, he didn’t. Instead, he left a note. All he wrote was: 

Frequency 104.50

-Fulcrum

contact me

He would be the only one listening to that frequency. A safe solution. All that work trying to find a way and he’d just gone and made himself Fulcrum. As soon as they contacted him, he would mask his voice and explain his situation. Not who he was, but that he had extensive knowledge on imperial information, and he could give them the upper hand. It was a deal worth taking, he thought. 

He was right. Commander Sato himself had been present during the first transmission. He hadn’t expected them to be so trusting, but he figured they were desperate enough for nearly anything. 

_By the light of Lothal’s moons._ He liked how the phrase sounded when he said it. It was so different from the codes of the Empire. It was so full of hope. Before he’d crashed on that moon with Zeb, he had truly believed the rebellion had no chance. But something Zeb had said changed that. _“You’re so quick to give up hope.”_ In a dark, cold cave, with an imperial and a broken transponder, Zeb had said that. Rebels were not quick to despair. Kallus knew now that it would take a lot more than some storm-troopers and star destroyers to wipe them out when they had hope on their side. And now, Kallus felt that it was his responsibility to keep that hope burning bright. 

Bright as the meteorite beside his bed. It was still warm, somehow, like the feeling in his chest. The feeling which hadn’t left since he’d come across Zeb at the tower. He had an inkling of what that feeling meant, but he decided it would be a bad idea for him to wonder about it any further. Zeb was his friend, that’s all. He wasn’t even sure of that--maybe Zeb was only being friendly to recruit him. _No,_ the agent thought of the Lothal market. _No, I don’t think so._ Still, Kallus didn’t have the time to spare thinking about the lasat. He had work to do. 

The warm feeling didn’t go away. 

_Blast it._


	4. The Battle of Atollon

4:

 _I need to warn them_ , Kallus thought frantically. _They need to call off the attack, it’s a trap, I have to warn them. Zeb..._

He had just been listening to Thrawn’s meeting with Admiral Konstantine, Governor Pryce, and Moff Tarkin. He had no idea how, but Thrawn had discovered the rebel plan to attack the TIE-Defender factory on Lothal. Now he was on a speeder heading to Bridger’s tower to transmit his warning. When he got in, he looked around warily. He saw no signs of trouble, but still was on edge as he knelt to turn on the transmitter. 

“This is Fulcrum, with an urgent message,” he rushed out, “Thrawn knows about--” The Fulcrum symbol suddenly glitched and turned red. Kallus felt his heart drop. _What--_

“By the light of Lothal’s moons,” droned a voice behind him, in a disgustingly calm tone. _Thrawn._ If his heart could have dropped lower, it would have. “That is your code phrase, isn’t it, Agent Kallus? Or would you prefer I address you as Fulcrum?” The Grand Admiral smiled with no joy. “I’m afraid your rebel friends won’t receive your warning.” 

He held up the thing that was stopping the transmission from going through. _No._ thought Kallus desperately, _I need to break that device_ . He launched himself at the chiss. If he didn’t get that transmission through, the rebellion was doomed. Zeb was doomed. _Over my dead body._ He got some good blows in but Thrawn was clearly winning. _Kriff, maybe it really will be over my dead body_ , Kallus thought a bit frantically, nerves high. Somehow he had enough strength to break the device, though it earned him a kick to the gut. 

“You have the heart of a rebel,” Kallus heard. Two death troopers were holding him up now. 

He managed to squeeze in a reply before blacking out: “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

\---

That exchange was a number of hours ago, Kallus surmised. He wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed. There were only two things he knew. One, that he had been brought in for some questioning with a healthy side of torture, which hadn’t ended well--Thrawn found the location of the rebel fleet. And two, that he was on Thrawn’s starship, in the middle of the control room, watching the rebels fight for their lives. Everyone was going to die, _Zeb_ was going to die, and it was his fault. He wanted to curl up and never move again, never think again, never breathe again. The rebellion had no chance, there was simply no way-- _No, I can’t think like that._ He remembered Zeb’s words. _I can’t give up hope. There is always a way._ Now he just had to pray that Wren and Bridger, who had escaped earlier, could find that way.

His praying had apparently done the trick. Although Commander Sato had sacrificed himself for the good of the fleet--something Kallus knew would haunt him for quite some time, since it was his fault any of this happened--the two younger Spectres had managed to recruit what looked like a bunch of Mandalorians. When he saw the interdictor cruiser explode he could barely contain his excitement. For whatever reason, his drug-addled brain had decided it would be a good time to taunt Pryce about it. It should have ended badly, but, with a good bout of classic Pryce luck, the situation was turned on its head.

Kallus ended up with a stormtrooper escort to the airlock. Even in his weakened state, the agent easily bested the two of them. In fact, he was a bit perturbed at Pryce’s underestimation of him. _No matter_ . _Now to get a ride off this oversized piece of garbage._

\---

What had seemed impossible had become reality. The rebels, or at least most of them, had escaped, and Kallus’ escape pod had been picked up by the Ghost just before it jumped. The Force must have been on his side, just this once. He’d never felt like the Force favored any side, and yet here he stood, among the survivors or the rebellion, convinced that the Force had helped them. He couldn’t think of any explanation for the absurdity of what they had just accomplished. There simply had to be something looking out for them. It made him a bit less worried about his choice to join the rebels.

All his thoughts about the Force must have summoned Kanan. He stood in front of Kallus, who suddenly was overcome with gratitude. All the members of the Ghost deserved his thanks--one especially. If he was honest with himself, Kallus was surprised they didn’t kill him where he stood, for what he’d done to them. Defected-imperial or not, he felt he hadn’t earned their trust or respect. 

“Thank you,” the Fulcrum agent said, “for taking me in.” He still half-expected Kanan to hand-cuff him and put him in a cell, so the Jedi’s response caught him way off guard.

“Thank you for risking everything.” Kallus’ sense of gratitude doubled. He was now certain he had made the right choice. A choice Zeb had helped him make. He desperately wanted to find the lasat, but he was sure he had more pressing things to deal with. _I can wait._ He didn’t want to, but he knew he could. 

Suddenly, Kallus remembered himself. His whole body ached, mainly his ribcage and black eye, but he was also dimly aware that some of the drugs from the torture had not worn off. He figured he needed some medical help, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to the medbay. Not with all the other rebels whose wounds needed more attention. Not with the people who had almost died because he wasn’t careful. He could wait in the cargo hold for a while. 

He must have been more tired than he felt, because as soon as he sat down he almost nodded off. He was in that weird half-awake state when he heard a gruff voice from the ladder. A familiar one.

“Kallus?”

He looked up. Garazeb Orrelios. In the flesh. He couldn’t have stopped a smile from flashing across his face if he’d tried. 

“Hey! Zeb” he said, coming across more tired than he’d ever thought he could sound. He pinched himself to bring some alertness back. He didn’t want to sound drunk.

“Kal, what’re you doing down here? Look atcha, you needa get to the medbay!” Zeb looked worried. 

“Kal?” the former ISB agent questioned. Zeb’s ears suddenly twitched back, a motion that distinctly seemed to Kallus like the lasat equivalent of a blush. Kallus felt his own skin tinge pink at the sight.

“If that’s ok with you.”

“It’s fine. It’s more than fine.” 

“Great. Now c’mon, to the medbay.” Zeb said, beckoning Kallus over. He must have seen Kallus’ hesitation. “What?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

“The people up there--they need more help than me. I’ll be fine.”

“Kal, yer literally wincing while speaking and you look like yer ‘boutta fall over, c’mon.”

“I don’t deserve their help.” Kallus said, looking down.

“Wha--” Zeb looked confused for a moment but then he strode over and grasped Kallus by the shoulders. “Kallus.”

The agent said nothing.

“Look at me.”

He looked. There were those green eyes. 

“You risked your life. For us, for the rebellion. You gave us priceless information, you helped us in more ways than you could know. Everyone has a past. Just like everyone has a future, and you chose to dedicate yours to us. That counts for something.”

Kallus felt the warm feeling flood through him, engulfing him. But he didn’t get it. _How, how can he forgive me?_

It was as if the lasat read his mind. “Kal, I know you feel responsible for this. For a lot of bad things. But hey,” he said, looking very serious now, “I forgive you. Try to forgive yourself, ‘kay?”

It was like a dam inside Kallus broke. A wall crumbled. He smiled.

“Thank you, Zeb.”

He wished words could carry more emotion, to express his gratitude fully, but even though the words were inadequate, he knew Zeb had gotten the message. 

“I’m still not going there, it smells horrible.” he said, trying to lighten the mood. It was too serious. He made a face and Zeb laughed. 

“‘Course, I should’a known you’d pull that.” Zeb joked, then paused. “Ya still need some medical attention. I’m surprised ya haven’t passed out yet.”

“Well, you’ve patched me up before, Zeb, why don’t you help me out again?”

“Can do.”

“That reminds me, thank you. For that time on Lothal.” Kallus surprised the lasat with that. 

“You’re welcome.”

\---

Zeb went to get some ointment and bandages. Kallus wasn’t sure how he stayed awake for that whole time. Maybe it wasn’t as long as it felt. 

Zeb returned, saying, “Ok, first your eye.”

Kallus sat on a pile of crates so his face was even with Zeb’s. The lasat brushed some loose hair out of Kallus’ face and started applying the ointment. His hands were not as rough as Kallus had expected them to be. The agent wasn’t exactly sure why he found that to be a fact worth noting. 

They didn’t talk until Zeb was done. It was a welcome silence, though. A comfortable one. Abruptly Kallus felt like he only had minutes before he could deny his body sleep any longer. Then he remembered he’d been meaning to tell the lasat his name.

“Hey. Zeb.” he was impressed at his own ability to not slur his words. “I was going to tell you my name on Bahryn, but I stopped myself.” He paused. “It’s Alexandr.”

“Alexandr.” Zeb repeated, then he paused, too. “Well, karabast, I wouldn’t have guessed that. It’s too long. Sounds so formal.” Kallus wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily Zeb continued. “Alex? How’s that sound? I think it fits you better. Rebel-you, I mean.”

Kallus smiled. A real smile. “That would be great. Now, should I pass out here or is there a place to sleep?”

Zeb chuckled. “Follow me. Ezra fell asleep in the gunner’s chair again--”

“Again?”

“--so you can use his bunk.”

“Ok.” Kallus slid off the crates and promptly collapsed. He could barely even keep his eyes open at this point.

“Should I--do you need me to--do you need a lift?”

“I’ll have you know, I’m not usually this bad after a fight. Blame the drugs,” Kallus tried to uphold his image. “But yes, a lift might be good.” Zeb didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up Kallus like he weighed nothing and they were at the bunk in no time. Kallus was almost mad that it was such a short trip, since he felt like he fit in Zeb’s arms quite nicely. Not that that meant anything, because it didn’t. _Blast it!_ he thought. _Blame the drugs, yeah, it’s the drugs._

“Goodnight, Alex.”

Kallus would have responded, had he had the energy. _Goodnight, Zeb._


	5. On Yavin 4

5:

“We’d like you to be captain of Green Squadron, Agent Fulcrum.”

“Captain?” Kallus questioned, looking at Mon Mothma incredulously.  _ After all I’ve done? _ “That can’t be right.” 

“You have extensive knowledge of imperial protocol during conflict, which may be useful to us, should you take the promotion. You have sacrificed a great amount to the rebellion, and after considering the evidence, we believe that you will be faithful to us.” She paused. “We are not like the empire, Kallus. Do well to remember it.”

“I know.” And he did know, but he still couldn’t believe his ears. He didn’t know what to say. He’d led attacks on the rebellion more times than he could count and they wanted him to be captain. They weren’t going to put him in a cell. He should be thankful.  _ But what about the Ghost? _ Zeb was the one who’d gotten him into this, and the Ghost had saved him. He felt like he owed them. 

“I am grateful, truly,” he said. “But the members of Phoenix Squadron have a lot to do. They saved me, I feel that I owe them something. If you ever need my intel on imperial protocol, don’t hesitate to ask, but I’m...I’m afraid giving me a position of high ranking is not what I need right now.” He winced at his own words. If they trusted him before, they probably didn’t anymore.

“We understand, Agent. We may need you on other squadrons, but for now you are welcome to join Phoenix. You’re right about them lacking a helping hand now and then. Dismissed.”

The former imperial almost wanted to brush a hand through Mothma to make sure she wasn’t a hologram, that this wasn’t some kind of joke. He felt gratitude sweep through him. 

“Thank you.”

She nodded.

After leaving the room, Kallus realized something. He was smiling. For the first time, Kallus felt, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was fighting for something good. He’d never felt that with the Empire, even before his beliefs had been questioned. He turned the corner and bumped right into a certain purple figure.

“Zeb!” 

“Alex! Hey, how’d it go?”

“They wanted me to become a captain.”

Zeb was already smiling, but it somehow grew wider. “Tha’s great! See, I knew they wouldn’t get all impy on you.”

“Impy?”

“Imperial”

Kallus snickered. “Where do you even come up with these things?” he muttered.

Zeb raised a brow. “What was ‘at?”

“Nothing. Anyway, I turned them down.” 

“What? Why?”

Kallus knew he was going to ask but didn’t want to answer. “I don’t really…I’m afraid I’ll...abuse the position, or something. I was an imperial, remember?”

Zeb’s face fell. “Everyone has a past, remember?” he said, echoing both himself and Alexandr. The lasat looked like he was going to say more, but Kallus interrupted.

“That wasn’t the only reason, anyway. I said I’d do it, if they still wanted me to, but only after I’d helped you guys. Don’t deny it, Phoenix Squadron needs all the help they can get, especially with that stunt Ezra’s convinced you guys to pull, which I plan to assist with.”

“Well, welcome to the team then.” Zeb’s smile returned, and for that Kallus was glad. They lapsed into a bit of silence. Right then, the human’s brain thought it was a great time to notice the lasat’s eyes. Just like they were on Bahryn, brilliantly green. He remembered what he’d almost thought then, and how he had banished it from his mind. Not very well, evidently, since it was back now. He’d still had an imperial mindset ingrained in him at that point, and had been convinced he would forget about Zeb once he was off that Sith-forsaken moon.  _ As if I could forget him,  _ he thought, still staring at the lasat. He inwardly laughed at his past-self’s foolishness. Perhaps it was the lack of imperial protocol to hold him back, or simply lack of sense, but for whatever reason, he didn’t keep the thought to himself this time. 

“You have nice eyes, Zeb.”

The eyes in question widened considerably at that. Kallus froze immediately after he said it. Kallus’ brain went into hyperspeed.  _ Blast it, why did I let that out?  _ he thought nervously.  _ I should explain myself, explain how that wasn’t a weird thing to-- _

“Er. Thanks.” The lasat still looked surprised, but his ears were perked up. Like he was happy. Then he smiled that lopsided smile of his. “So do you. Anyway, I gotta go, Hera told me to get AP-5 and Chopper, apparently their arguing annoyed everyone in Bunker 3 and they were kicked out. She doesn’t want their circuits damaged in the rain.” He started walking in the direction he was headed before they ran into each other. “See ya.”

Kallus blinked.  _ So do you. _ He tried to remember a time when anyone had complimented him on anything about his appearance. Nothing came to mind. That ever-present feeling of warmth increased and he felt heat flood his cheeks. The lasat was extremely good at getting it to do that. He no longer had an inkling of what that feeling was; he knew exactly what it meant. He wasn’t used to it, he hadn’t felt it in a very long time, and this was much stronger than it had ever been before. Yes, he knew what the feeling was. He just had no idea what to do about it. 


	6. The Battle of Lothal

+1:

It was happening. The plan to take back Lothal--it was really happening. He was fighting alongside the rebels he had gotten to know so well over the weeks: alongside Rex, Wolffe, and Gregor--he’d actually grown to like the old timers quite a lot--and alongside Ezra, Sabine, Hera, and Kanan--may he rest peacefully knowing he saved the lives of others--alongside some crazy space pirate--who was smarter than he looked--and alongside Zeb, who needed no explanation. And kriff, was he proud. Scared, too, yes, but the pride was overwhelming. 

Still, it wasn’t over yet. Some complications had risen and now he, Zeb, and Gregor were trying to turn on the shield generator. Ketsu and Rex were on the lower level, having gotten there before them, and were closer to the lever, but that did them no good. Not when they were being shot at by that pest of a being, that assassin. Kallus’ brain scrambled to find a solution but he couldn’t think of any way to get rid of the mercenary without it being a suicide mission--something which was, of course, out of the question. _That’s not how rebels do things,_ he thought, Zeb’s words from long ago bouncing around his head. _“There’s always another way.”_

Suddenly he heard Gregor’s voice ring out above the blaster-fire, “We’re gonna have to do something drastic!”

 _Did he hear my thoughts?_ Kallus wondered. His mood shifted the smallest amount closer to panic. _Is Gregor going to sacrifice himself?_ He glanced over at the clone. He seemed focused on shooting down the stormtroopers in the level above them. The opposite of the assassin. Kallus heard a gruff voice in his periphery, “Alright.” It didn’t quite register, as the former ISB agent was still focused on Gregor.

The same voice, again: “I’ll do it.” This time it did register. That was Zeb. 

“Zeb,” he breathed, as if in realizing what Zeb was about to do, he felt the need to say his name. He saw a blur of purple rush past his shoulder and felt his stomach and heart leap in opposite directions. 

“no--DON’T!” he heard the words escape his mouth before he even thought them, but it was far too late anyway. He suspected that even if he’d spoken the words before Zeb said “I’ll do it,” that crazy lasat would still have launched himself at the noghri mercenary. 

His thoughts spun out of control. His mood was no longer shifting towards panic, it was already there. Zeb and the assassin disappeared over the edge of the platform and...and..suddenly he remembered himself. He remembered Zeb. The former honor-guardsman knew what he was doing, and he didn’t have a death wish. Kallus just had to have faith in him, and respect his decision. Worrying about Zeb now wouldn’t do the lasat any good. Zeb would tell him and Gregor to take advantage of the missing noghri while they could. Kallus boarded his feelings up inside himself with all the practice of an ex-imperial, in the matter of a moment. 

“He’s crazy!” he heard Gregor gasp.

“Well, it was _your_ idea,” he snapped back. “C’mon!”

Kallus took the lead towards the control bridge. They got rid of all the guards before turning to the buttons and screens on the console. All the troopers, except perhaps one. Before Kallus had a chance to read any of the screens in front of him, he heard a blaster and a cry of pain from behind him. He whipped around--Gregor had been shot. Kallus grabbed the holster of his blaster to get back at the trooper who’d done it, but the clone was faster. Gregor threw the man over the edge and then collapsed backward, towards Kallus. The ex-imperial moved to help him, but Gregor’s strained voice groaned out, “Get that shield up.” 

He turned back to the screens, trying to focus on the task at hand. It was extremely difficult, however, knowing that Zeb was still down in the generator’s electrical field. His friend would be fried like a frog in a Hutt-house if Kallus turned the shield on before he got out. Kallus shook at the idea. _Please get out. Please make it._ He got everything set up to run smoothly when Ketsu got to the lever. 

“Now!” he heard Ketsu shout from below. 

“Zeb...!” Kallus heard the edge in his voice, the panic, but he didn’t care. _Get out._

“Don’t wait on me!” came the reply. He glanced down and saw Zeb on top of one of the electrical generators. Kallus allowed himself to breathe. _He can jump out from there._ He pressed the _go_ button. 

“Systems operational. Request acknowledged.” droned the quiet voice of the computer. Red electrical light danced in the corner of Kallus’ vision. He paid it no attention. He was staring at Zeb, nothing but Zeb. _Get out, jump out... kriff, just jump!_ He could almost hear the desperation of his own thoughts. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the lasat jumped out of the way at the last second--jumped out of the way, and out of Kallus’ view. The former agent had no idea if Zeb had made it safely to the other platform. His heart jumped right back into his throat. What if he’d fallen back? What if he didn’t make it, what if--? 

“Shield’s up?” Gregor. He’d forgotten about Gregor. Thoughts of Zeb had to wait, this was a fallen soldier, and they did _not_ get left behind. Kallus knelt over him. 

“Yeah, the shield is up. The city is safe. Your--our people are safe.”

Gregor smiled. 

“Where’s Rex?”

Kallus looked around, briefly scared the old man had been lost in the fight, until he saw him climbing up to the control bridge. _Of course. Rex always pulls through._ Kallus smiled at Gregor, trying not to let any pity show through.

“He’s coming.”

Kallus moved back to let Rex through. He heard the men exchange soldiers’ words--dying words--and saw Gregor’s arm go slack. He was gone. Kallus’ heart went out for Rex. The poor man had seen too many soldiers go down in battle. 

_Oh, kriff: Zeb!_ The fear came rushing back. He ran down to the other end of the bridge and practically dove over the side to the lower level. He looked over to where Zeb should have landed. He was there. That beautiful lasat was there. Kallus thanked the Force, the Ashla, the _something_ over and over. He didn’t care who or what he was thanking. All he cared about was that Zeb was fine. More than fine, he looked happy. 

It took a few seconds for Kallus to notice that his feet were still moving even after he’d reached the lower level, carrying him towards his friend. Once he’d realized, he didn’t stop. Zeb turned toward him when he was about ten feet away. The lasat had already been smiling, but somehow his face lit up more.

“Alex! Hey, yer al--” 

Before he finished his sentence, Kallus had jumped up and wrapped his arms around Zeb’s neck. There was no one around besides Rex, who was still up on the bridge, but even if there had been, Kallus wouldn’t have cared. Zeb, wonderful Zeb, who had saved him from himself, was alive; he couldn’t be more relieved. He buried his face in the lasat’s neck. The fur there was short but softer than the ex-imperial had anticipated. When he felt Zeb’s arms wrap around him in turn, seeming to cling as tightly to him as he clung to the other, he wanted to hold on forever. 

“I thought you were going to die,” Kallus whispered. Zeb’s arms tightened. “I saw you jump out of there but I couldn’t see if you made it and I was just so scared that--”

“Hey,” Zeb said, moving back so he could look Kallus in the eye, although his hands never left the human’s side. “I did make it. I’m fine.” Zeb’s sincere expression turned into a smirk as he joked, “What, did you not trust my amazing strength and agility?” Kallus laughed weakly but his mind was still reeling. 

“No, I mean yes, I mean...I just thought I lost you, before I could--” He stopped himself and looked down.

“Before you could what?” Zeb asked. Kallus didn’t want to look at him in case the answer was written all over his own face, but he forced himself to. He reminded himself of all the reasons why he loved Garazeb Orrelios. He reminded himself of all the times both of them had almost died, in just the past 15 minutes, not to mention the whole rest of the day, or the past few weeks. Kriff, they were in a war, they risked their lives every day. Kallus didn’t know what he would do if he was never able to tell Zeb how he felt. He had to tell him now. 

“Before I could tell you that I…” he trailed off. _I can’t do this, what was I thinking?_ Zeb was still looking at him expectantly, but there was something else in his expression that Kallus couldn’t quite place. _No, ok, I can do it._ He was surprised Zeb didn’t hear his heart beating out of his chest. _No, I can’t,_ he thought again, feeling panicked, his thoughts spinning out of control. _I don’t know what to say. What if I ruin everything? No, I’m sure I won’t. But what if_ \--Kallus was suddenly aware of how close the lasat’s face was.

All his thoughts stilled, coming together into one single _Oh_ as Zeb kissed him. It was a short kiss, couldn’t have been more than a second, he guessed. More of a peck really, square on the lips. All doubt was banished from his mind in that instant, and the warm feeling filled him. Still, he must have looked pretty surprised when the lasat pulled away, because Zeb’s ears flattened against his head, like he was nervous.

“I love you, too,” he said, voice unwavering, though Kallus noticed that his ears were still pressed backward. Kallus fought the urge to smile--after all, Zeb stole his thunder, he had to let him flounder a bit. With great effort, he frowned, but before the lasat could say anything, Kallus said,

“You didn’t even let me finish what I was saying, you impatient--” he stopped himself and promptly started laughing at how ridiculous that sounded. “Nah, I can’t keep that up.”

Zeb was smiling now. “Karabast, Alex, I thought you were mad for a split second there. What’s wrong with you?” 

“I am mad!” Kallus exclaimed with zero heat behind his words, still laughing. “You didn’t let me finish, I was going to launch into a whole speech...kriff, I should have known you’d interrupt, of cou--”

Once again, he was unable to get to the end of his sentence. Zeb’s lips were pressed against his own. Kallus didn’t let his surprise last long this time. He thought of every time he’d wanted to do this, of each time that warm feeling had filled him, of how much he loved this lasat, and tried to pour all of that emotion into the kiss. He reached up and grabbed Zeb’s ears, trying to somehow get even closer; they couldn’t be close enough. When he pulled back to breathe, a familiar voice came from behind Zeb, interrupting them.

“Blast it!”

The two broke apart and looked for the source.

“Rex?” Kallus blurted, confused. Rex was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, and looking particularly peeved. 

“Couldn’t you two have waited a couple days?” Rex grumbled. Before they could say anything, he continued. “Hera and I had a bet going about how long it would take for you two to kiss, and it looks like,” he gestured to them, “I just lost.”

Kallus felt his face grow warm, but he smiled, and Zeb just laughed. Rex winked at the pair, then his com blinked. He picked it up.

“Looks like they need us up at command. C’mon,” he said.

They followed him. 

\---

Once the fight for Lothal was over, and they had won, the war had officially begun. Kallus knew it would be hard. He knew they were wildly outnumbered. He knew it would take everything they had. But he also knew they had a real chance at winning. As long as he and Zeb could live in a peaceful galaxy at the end of the day, it would be worth it. 

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first fanfiction I've ever written, so please don't bash me too hard if it's terrible *nervous laughter*. I'm honestly not sure how it turned out, so please, if you have any constructive criticism or thoughts, comment below, I'd be super grateful for any tips or feedback :)


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